Where You Long To Be
by angelofmusicx0
Summary: OneShot. EC, Christine regrets unmasking the Phantom. Takes place after Stranger Than You Dreamt It. I'm horrible at summaries.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. **

**A/N: A one-shot. Picks up after Stranger Than You Dreamt It. Please R&R.**

I am back above ground where I belong. I have a feeling Madame Giry knows more than she's willing to tell. She knows him. After removing his mask I was surprised he didn't kill me on the spot. Though I don't know what would have been worse; killing me, or the look in his eyes when I did it. That look will be forever burned in my mind. He looked so hurt, angry, and betrayed. I immediately regretted unmasking him. I don't think, however, that he knew my reason of being so afraid. I was not afraid of his face at all. I was afraid of the temper that arose in him and the fact that I betrayed the one person who looked after me and tried to make things better for me after I came to live at the Opera Populaire.

It's too late now. I'm back at the Opera, not underneath it. He brought me up here to Madame Giry, and once we had reached her room, he was gone. He didn't say a word to me the whole journey above ground, and he didn't say a word upon parting. That made me feel even worse. Madame saw the look of distress on my face and as she brought me back to my room she asked what happened. I told her of the unmasking and she brought her hand to her face, immediately telling me how foolish I was. I already knew that and I told her. I spoke of my feelings of the prior night when I was brought down to his home. How I felt like I was floating when he sang to me and how it all felt right when my hand was in his. I hadn't realised I actually said those things out loud and I automatically looked at the mirror, hoping he wasn't behind it again. Madame Giry sensed my confusion and told me that he was most likely at his home, thinking over everything that happened. She told me to take the day off from rehearsals; she'll tell them I am back, and not feeling well, and that I do not wish to have any visitors. This break was definitely a good thing. I need to relax and rethink all that has happened. I can picture the exposed side of his face and I remember how handsome he is. He has beautiful green eyes that seem to hold every possible emotion in them. Even though I took his mask off and saw the deformed side of him, it does not change my opinion that he is the most handsome man I have ever seen.

I am feeling a mix of emotions that I have never felt at the same time; fear, because I do not know so much about this man, save for that he is my angel, and the phantom; confusion, because I do not know what to think anymore; pity, because of what he must have endured by having a face with that deformity; excited, because this is more adventure than I've had in my whole life; and possibly love. I won't admit it but I may love this mysterious musical angel with a half mask and no name. I need to learn more about him. From what I know, he is in love with me, and I can still see the hope in his eyes that maybe his feelings will be reciprocated.

I need to go back down there. I need to! I partially remember the way. I was so intrigued by him that I was barely able to notice anything on the way down. It was the way back up that I noticed some things, but of course, we came up a different way than we came down.

After a short nap and a good half hour of contemplating, I decided to go down. I cannot let things with him end on a sour note. I have given him a good few hours to be alone and I can't wait any longer. I must apologize for taking away his only defense, and I need to learn more about him so I can decipher my feelings. I walk over to my mirror and fiddle with it, looking and feeling for anything out of the ordinary that might trigger it to open. At last, I feel a tiny lever stuck in between the frame and the mirror itself. It is so tiny that one would never notice it unless they knew it was there.

The mirror swung open and I paused for a moment. I grabbed a lit candle from my room and proceeded down the passageway. They were long, narrow, and winding. If I had not brought my candle, I would be in complete darkness. By the looks of it, these corridors had rarely seen light. I remember that I am looking for a lake. The lake will take me to his home. I encounter some stairs and I remember seeing them. If I am not mistaken, I was on horseback on these stairs, which means the lake isn't too far off. I have been traveling for a while, and I am finally at the shores of his lake. The boat is gone, so he is probably home. The water is shallow enough to wade through it, at least in this part of it, the canals. When I get to the open part of the lake, it is too deep for me and I must swim. The water is so dark, it is almost black, and I fear what might be lurking in it. But to provoke me from my thoughts I look up and I can see his home in the distance. I swim faster than I ever have because I want out of this water.

Finally, I reach the gate only to find it down and locked. At least this part of the lake gets shallower, because I can now stand and I am in about waist-deep. I am about to call for him but I do not know who to call. I do not know his name, and I cannot call him _'Phantom' _or _'Opera Ghost'_ because that doesn't seem proper. I settle on calling him...

"Angel! Angel!" I wait. Silence. Nothing. "Angel!" I try again.

"Christine?" He emerges from nowhere and is standing on the shore on the other side of the gate. He looks a bit disheveled, physically and mentally.

"Angel, please, I need to talk to you. Please let me in." And with that he pulls on a lever that opens the gate, and I am in his home, ready to pour out my heart and soul.

"Christine, what are you doing here?" He seems shocked, yet annoyed to see me in his home on my own accord. And as I open my mouth to speak he stops me. "Don't call me Angel, either. I am not an angel, actually quite the opposite."

"Then what am I to call you?"

"My name is Erik." Ah. So he does have a name.

"Erik." I feel like I need to try it out on my lips before I can proceed. It is a name that fits him and his mysterious aura well.

"Erik, I wanted to apologize. My curiosity got the better of me. I should never have taken your mask from you. But I do want you to know that your face does not bother me like you thought it did." Suddenly, my newfound boldness appears from nowhere and I tell him exactly what was on my mind. "I actually think the opposite of what you were spitting out of your rage. You are not monster, or a beast, or anything of the sort. I think you to be quite handsome and no matter what you will always be an angel of music to me." I was shocked at my confession, I think, just as much as he.

He was speechless. He stared at me dumbfounded for a few minutes. Then, once he realized I was standing there in wet clothes, he took me into the room which I had slept the previous night. He gave me a pair of his clothes to wear until mine were reasonably dry. We both knew his clothes were too big for me, but I know I did not expect to look as funny as I did. When I emerged from the bedroom and into his study, he looked at me and laughed. I laughed with him. His laugh was a beautiful sound, and to see him smile was one of the greatest things I had ever seen.

I sat across from him and we talked about what happened yesterday and early this morning. Then I asked him to tell me about himself. He was reluctant but I convinced him to. As he was telling me of his past, I felt closer to him than ever, and that's not because I had moved closer and closer to him during his story until I was sitting on the armchair next to him. He told me of his childhood and his travels, and how he came to live under the Opera House.

No wonder he acts the way he does; no one has ever showed him any compassion. I silently vowed to myself that I would change that. I knew he did not want my pity, but I did feel bad about the life that he was forced to live. I wanted to be the reason he would smile. I wanted to be closer to him. Knowing how much he had endured in his lifetime made me love him all the more. We were both orphans, we both were lonely, and we both shared a passion for music. It could definitely work out.

He then asked "What about the _boy_?"

"Who, Raoul? He was a friend from my childhood. I can see now he wishes to pursue something more but I do not wish it. He still seems very boyish and I have grown up in our years apart. He has not. He is not for me."

He seemed a little stunned by my reply, and relieved. A small smile was creeping on my lips, glad that my answer was to his liking.

"Erik? Will you sing to me again?" I really wanted to hear that song he sang to me when I came down here the first time.

_Nighttime sharpens, hightens each sensation..._

Its like he read my mind.

_Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination.  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses..._

I got up from my spot on the armchair and settled myself in his lap, resting my head against his chest. I could tell he was surprised but he continued his song.

_...Turn your face away, from the garish light of day.  
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light. And listen to the music of the night._

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams..._

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment and the sound of his voice.

_...Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!_

My spirit did indeed soar. I felt so light, like a feather, like I was flying.

_...Open up your mind. Let your fantasies unwind,  
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night._

_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world.  
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before.  
Let your soul take you where you long to be!  
Only then, can you belong to me..._

It was in that moment I learned exactly where I longed to be.

_...Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.  
Touch me, trust me. Savor each sensation.  
Let the dream begin!  
Let your darker side give in,  
To the Power of the music that I write,  
The power of the music of the night!_

I felt the need to kiss him, and so I did. It was completely innocent at first, and then the true passion that was inside of us burst through. It was my first kiss, and I honestly think it was his too. When I pulled away, the look of pure devotion shown in his eyes.

I joined in to finish his song, remembering him sing the words to me in my dream-like unconsciousness the night before.

_You alone can make my song take flight,  
Help me make the music of the night..._

I could bring some light in his darkness, and together we would have the perfect balance. We would have a life filled with love and music. I cannot think of anything else I'd ever need. _This_ is where I longed to be.


End file.
